


there's no hiding for me

by chrobins



Series: Haikyuu Week 2016 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Maybe some mature ideas, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Song Lyrics, nothing sexual but please be careful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 19:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6534328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrobins/pseuds/chrobins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>inspired by twenty one pilot's "car radio"</p>
<p>for day 3 of haikyuu week 2016!</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's no hiding for me

Tsukishima doesn’t enjoy the fact that the radio on his brother’s old car is broken, wires poking out from where a cassette tape would go in, the screen not even coming to life when he taps the power button repeatedly, hoping that the more he pressed, the radio would somehow come to life.

 

So now he has to suffer for nearly four hours in a car with no radio, the one place he can’t wear headphones to drown out the sound of other cars on the highways and his own dangerous thoughts, the passenger seat window open just a crack to let fresh air in.

 

Why he’s even wasting his spring break to go to Tokyo and suffer in getting there and back is beyond Tsukishima’s comprehension, beyond what he’s willing to admit to himself. His own mind combats the ideas that try to crawl their way into his heart, and Tsukishima chases them away by cracking the window open more.

 

The first hour is fine, driving through streets and different highways before he’s settled on the main highway that would take him Tokyo. He’s more focused on the road than anything else, gritting his teeth at slow drivers and assholes who keep trying to merge into his lane, either suicidal or just stupid. But once the stress of the road disappears, other stresses reappear.

 

Fingers tap against the leather steering wheel, the engine hums quietly despite the car’s age, the wind whips through the half-open window, and yet it’s not enough to put Tsukishima at ease. Questions of why he’s driving alone without even letting anyone know where he was going (save for Akiteru), why his body moves before his mind can comprehend.

 

Tsukishima misses his music, his old iPod that has seen better days, his large headphones that keep his feelings locked away inside. But now the lock is open, key in his hand that he undid himself and is unable to lock it back up again. 

 

_ My pride is no longer inside _

_ It’s on my sleeve _

 

He unconsciously rubs at his shoulders, his sleeves that he feels  scream his insecurities to the cars around him, boring stares drilling holes in Tsukishima’s chest. He hates the silence in that very moment despite how much he used to crave it.

 

_ Sometimes quiet is violent _

_ I find it hard to hide it _

 

Suddenly the loneliness hits him like a tree trunk against the hood of his car, and Tsukishima swerves the car as a jolt runs through his limbs. But thankfully there are no cars nearby and he continues driving, shaken.   

 

The weight of being alone, of battling his own feelings, of not knowing what lay at the end of the road continues to press down on him, making his limbs feel extra large in the tight confines of the car. So he pulls over to a quiet town with just an empty convenience store and two barefoot kids playing outside the store.

 

Tsukishima feels out of place, his height towering over the elderly lady sitting in a rocking chair behind the old-fashioned register. Even the packaged cake with something that resembles a strawberry pressed into the center. He also grabs an energy drink for the hell of it, setting them on the dusty counter filled with candies that remind him of his childhood under the glass.

 

She offers him candy, and he reluctantly agrees to buying a small package of konpeito with a little black cat on the plastic with a smile that makes him laugh aloud. She eyes him, but says nothing as he pays with a thousand yen bill and tells her to keep the change before escaping to the jail cell that was his car.

 

He finishes the can in ten minutes after he gets back on the road. Tsukishima eyes the candy periodically, staring at the little black cat smiling back up at him, making his palms sweat and his heart unsteady. It doesn’t make sense to Tsukishima, why his eyes water ever so slightly, why his mind is a jumble, a complete mess.

 

_ My lungs will fill, and then deflate _

_ They fill with fire, exhale desire _

 

Tsukishima finds that his lips burn, his hot breath lighting a fire against his lips. He reaches for the empty can, trying to quench his thirst with the stray droplets at the bottom of the can, pooling in the rim of the can where his lips ache for relief. 

 

But the droplets do nothing for him but add to the fire that spreads to his fingertips, to the tips of his ears, to his curling toes in his shoes, to his chest and his groin. Tsukishima feels pathetic, rolling down the window a bit more as he gets closer and closer to Tokyo and the speed limit began to drop and buildings started to tower high in the sky. 

 

The sounds of city life bring background to Tsukishima’s suffering, and he’s able to drown out his pesky thoughts with cars honking and people bustling about. It’s very soothing, a great difference from his country-sh home back in Miyagi. Running on cheap a hundred yen strawberry cake that tasted like plastic and a whisper of fruit and the ultra-sugary energy drink, Tsukishima feels sluggish, grateful that his destination is near.

 

A half hour later and Tsukishima parked nearby the apartment complex, hauling out his duffel bag filled with enough clothes for the weekend, and the package of konpeito peeking out of his jeans pocket. His hair is as neat as a three hour car ride could make it, his guitar-print tee a little wrinkled but not unpresentable. 

 

It’s almost four in the afternoon, hopefully someone would be home. Another tennant was leaving at the same time as Tsukishima approached the building, carelessly letting Tsukishima inside. He pulls up an old text to see exactly which room he needed to head to.

 

Third floor, corner apartment with a surprisingly good view of the city. Tsukishima knocks four times, wondering if that would be enough to let in whoever was inside know he was here. He waited a good forty seconds before the door opens and the scent of distinct cologne that Tsukishima immediately recognizes, instant noodles and a faint hint of febreeze hit Tsukishima like a punch to his face, a punch that Tsukishima welcomes, a punch that Tsukishima greets with a shaky smile.

 

“Tsukki?” Kuroo’s voice is a mixture of confusion and glee, unsure if he should smile or be concerned that Tsukishima showed up on his doorstep without warning, with faintly watery eyes and a smile that warms his heart and scares him all the same. Tsukishima doesn’t know how to speak, but he opens his mouth, annoyed that nothing comes out. Kuroo moves quickly. “Come in, come in.” 

 

Kuroo ushers Tsukishima into his surprisingly tidy apartment, a place that Tsukishima doesn’t recognize, but Kuroo’s hand is warm against his back, his touch familiar and already beginning to melt his aching bones. Tsukishima drops his duffelbag and stands still, feeling so overwhelmed by Kuroo’s presence.

 

But after knowing Tsukishima for so long, being by his side for so long, Kuroo knows when it’s best to speak, when it’s best to be silent, when it’s best to embrace him, or to embrace him even tighter. So Kuroo gently wraps his arms around Tsukishima’s shoulders, resting his head in the crook of Tsukishima’s neck, he hums lightly at Tsukishima’s warmth, his shaking limbs.

 

They don’t speak, and it takes a while for Tsukishima to thaw, for his mold to crack, for the silence that is usually his comfort becoming the key to breaking out of his hole Tsukishima digs himself in, tries to bury himself again. But a hole always peeks through, even the tiniest one, and Kuroo had somehow managed to make that hole better, sticking his hand through the dirt and pulling Tsukishima out of the abyss.

 

Tsukishima shivers in Kuroo’s touch, feels his aches and worries dissolve away with a simple touch, with barely whispered words echoing loud in Tsukishima’s ear, presses his palms flat on Kuroo’s back, forehead dropping on Kuroo’s shoulder.

 

Kuroo’s grateful that Tsukishima had opened up a little, lowered his defenses, come to see him out of his own volition instead of constant pestering until Tsukishima finally agrees. Tsukishima feels so small in his arms, feels so fragile and weak, feels like the actual teenager he is, feels the weight of seventeen years, feels all the insecurities and takes them all gratefully.

 

Leading Tsukishima to the couch, Kuroo gently eases him down, and there’s a comfortable aura surrounding them, Tsukishima feeling more natural with his lithe legs over Kuroo’s thighs, head leaning against Kuroo’s shoulder. They don’t really speak much still, overwhelmed by Tsukishima’s actions, overwhelmed with joy and a mix of confusion.

 

Kuroo dares to take Tsukishima’s hand in his own, and Tsukishima doesn’t shy away. Kuroo squeezes his hand gently, and Tsukishima squeezes back. Kuroo finds joy in the small approval and brings their hands to his lips, pressing his lips lightly against the pale skin.

 

“Do you mind this?” Kuroo finally asks, lips twitching at the corners, begging for a smile. 

 

Tsukishima indulges Kuroo, offering a small, genuine smile back. “Not really…” Is his first answer, biting his lip at the usual sharpness came off stronger than he wanted. “I think...that I actually wanted this...wanted you...more than I could admit.”

 

Kuroo smiles. “But you admitted it right now.” And Tsukishima turns red in the cheeks. “And I’m grateful for that...grateful for you…” Tsukishima doesn’t know how to respond.

 

So he does what his body’s been aching to do for nearly four hours, leans forward with eyes shut, and presses his lips clumsily against Kuroo’s, both of them not minding the slight bump of their noses, the slight clash of teeth from the unexpectedness, but it all melts into a gentle kiss, a soft touch of lips against one another, aching desire for a hot, wet touch that tightens their grasp of intertwined hands, of tangled limbs, of melting lips and tongues, of hearts that finally spark together and intertwine with tiny confessions between parted lips and ecstatic smiles.  

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me what you thought!


End file.
